Nothing on the water looks normal at 2 am. Land masses that provide depth perception in daylight warp into ominous light-flecked shapes. Reflective channel markers pop up unexpectedly in front of the boat moving too fast through black water.

But tarpon feed at night and people sleep.

The dates are picked, the strategies are being worked out; it’s happening again.

Then the tide dies and it’s back to the ramp. The guides are all there mainlining coffee in the dark while they wait for their clients to show.

5am Automatic: We can’t sleep yet. We’ve got to get out again and run the inlet to the beach by sunrise, when everything resumes its rightful shape and a big tarpon might just appear in front of our bloodshot eyes.

The world at the moment is at the frayed ends of sanity, but those tarpon will be there in due time. Hope lives.